And In Rebirth
by Justa Little Puppy
Summary: Marco doesn't necessarily have a birthday. Not anymore. Because he's a phoneix; a mythical creature who rises from his own ashes.


**Puppy's Post It: Ello, arf arf! First, Happy Birthday Marco~! XD Yeah, this is a birthday fic for the great and awesome Marco the Phoenix! I haven't written anything for a while, so I don't see why I can't start up again with something for one of my favorite One Piece characters :3 Bleh title is bleh though =_= Just so you guys know; it's one of my many head canons for Marco (seriously, I have tons of others about his ability 8P) that every year on his birthday, ever since he ate the fruit, he has to immerse himself in fire. Sort of a rebirth type of thing, the reason he's able to regenerate at all because I read in a myth about phoenix's once that every couple centuries they rebirthed that way. So the first scene is like his first year with it ;3 Arf! So, hope you enjoy this, and please review after! I give doggy biscuits! :D**

**Disclaimer: I like my One Piece like I like my... Um... *is trying to think of a good punch line* ...yeah I don't own One Piece *failure* ._.**

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><p><em>The night was eerily silent as the child strode through the fields, far too stiff, far too <em>tired_. Walking, walking... it was all he could think to do, all he knew through the haze of pain washing through him with each step. Like fire crackling to life at the tip of every nerve. What was wrong with him?_

_He didn't know where he was going, why he'd started... Damnit. He needed to stop. The boy dropped his lantern and followed soon after, feeling the world recede as opposed to the darkness dancing at the edge of his vision, and he knew he was dying. This had to be what the end felt like. Bursts of heat and waves of cold all over his body, everything aching and throbbing and hurting... This was how he'd die. He had to admit; he was scared._

_As the broken light source ignited the vegetation beneath him, he passed out calling for people who weren't there._

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><p>Marco shook his head and sighed. He needed to relax; now was a different time. He could still feel the heat and chills and weakness, but it wasn't as intense. There was no reason to fear. He knew what to do.<p>

Watching the bonfire crackle before him made him clench his fists in trepidation even so. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how many motions he went through, the flames would always be those ravenous little sirens he remembered from each year upon year prior. Always beckoning him in with a promise of protection – of _relief_ – and always he fell for it, then smoldered in them like he wasn't made of fire himself. It was always like that, on this one particular day of vulnerability. He always _burned._

"...Marco?"

Right. He needed to go in. The raven-haired boy who'd addressed him (surprisingly tentative, was he actually worried about him? Well, it _was_ his first time seeing this...) placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing with gentle reassurance. Then he shoved him forward like he'd just realized what he'd done. Marco didn't complain.

"Hurry up, bird. At this rate the fire'll go out and the cake'll get cold."

Of course the idiot chief would try to make light of the situation, even though he knew more than anyone else how much Marco despised this ritual. Still, the encouragement was there, Marco was grateful for it, and he stepped into the flames while unwittingly holding on–

_Fuuuuuuck!_

That hurt. That hurt _a lot._ He was burning, burning, _combusting,_ hurting. The pain was all consuming, his flesh was melting, his bones were snapping and crackling and disintegrating and _hewantedtodieohgodhewantedtoscream–!_ No no, It was almost done, it was almost past, he could feel the _hell_ raging through him subsiding, the euphoric warmth taking over, the high taking him beyond himself—

And there was a shockwave of embers, and it was done. The worst had passed. The fire was gone. He felt... Loose. Relaxed. Powerful. Marco never knew when he'd transform exactly, but he was in his phoenix form as he always was at this point. And he felt like he could fly over the moon with a single beat of his wings now. What was the pain he'd endured to this?

His eyes shifted to his companions. The brat was freaking out in a good way; he was shouting something at him, waving his arms excitedly, pointing and dancing from one foot to the other. The pompadoured man simply smiled at him, eyes lighting up. According to Thatch, his feathers supposedly burned a beautiful myriad of color after his rebirth. Marco hardly payed attention to such however.

He spread his wings to their fullest span, and launched himself into the sky.

All he could pay attention to now was the cool air rushing over his new down, and the stars dusted like freckles above, and Ace's faint hollers drifting up to him, and the jubilance that came with over coming his rebirth. Which he would always do, with them.

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><p><strong>Puppy's Post It: Meh. This isn't exactly the best birthday fic ever, pretty short and boobish, but I tried ok? QAQ So... Please review and tell me what you think! I got doggy biscuits~ Y'all want dem biscuits. Y'all need dem biscuits. BISCUITS. REVIEW AND EAT THEM BEFORE THEY EAT YOU FIRST XO<strong>


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